


Last Straws and How to Break Them

by comesitbymyfire (StrongerThanAnySword)



Series: Strangely Magical Scenes [1]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fight Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4221774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrongerThanAnySword/pseuds/comesitbymyfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roland's done a lot of horrible things, but during his intrusion into the Bog Castle he finally crosses a line.  A brief write-up of one of my favorite scenes in Strange Magic.  :)  May become multichapter later as there are SEVERAL scenes that I am dying to do this for, but this one is very special to me.  xD</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Straws and How to Break Them

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in this fashion for quite some time, so I'd love to hear how I did. :) Also my first time writing in present tense for a while...AND this is officially my first AO3 piece! :D Hooray! Feels for everyone!

Roland isn't even paying  _attention_ to Dawn, to how close he came to bringing his blade down on her, to how her arms and wings are out, breast exposed, her frame fragile and soft yet solidly steady in her single-minded desire to keep Bog safe.  Her glare is both cute and uncharacteristically unsettling, but he doesn't spare her a second glance; instead he keeps speaking, talking right through her as if she is nothing in his eyes, as if she doesn't exist.  Roland's words, sharply barbed and tipped with venom, are for Bog alone.

"What were you _thinking_?!"  His voice carries easily and Marianne remembers to let her breath out and struggle once more against the guards pinning her arms to her sides.  She is so intent on wiggling away from the goblins and getting Dawn safely out of the middle of the fight that she almost, _almost_ does not hear Roland's next words."A  beast like you, falling for a  _beauty_ like Marianne..."

Everything stops as Marianne feels her eyes widen and her heart thud to a stop, suspended in disbelief before a distant roaring fills her ears, drawing closer and closer like a swarm of dragonflies.  She feels as if she has been punched in the gut and as if she has just been granted strength beyond even Bog's.  Marianne's struggles until this point had been earnest, mostly marking her desire to to battle with Roland for her own sake, to not let anyone else get hurt by stepping into the fight that rightfully stood between herself and him--though Bog, she knew, could take care of himself.  At Roland's words, however, a wave of absolute _rage_ roars through her veins, her ears, her whole body thrumming as it crashes into her muscles, the fiercest desire to _hurt_ she has ever felt, matched only by the unstoppable need she feels, ringing in her mind:  _defend._ The word may as well have been created for the way Marianne feels about Dawn, but now it spills over its previous definition to encompass not just Dawn but the Bog King as well, height and long limbs and intimidating glower be damned.

With a burst of energy and a vicious scream, Marianne finally wrenches free from the goblins on either side, jumping and twisting and arching until the world around her is blurring as her wings unfurl and she speeds toward Roland's shocked face, a pinpoint of clarity in the middle of a windstorm.  The angry rasp of her blade whipping out lasts only a moment and does not cover the raw rage in her battle-cry as her sword meets Roland's with a teeth-setting screech.  There are sparks for a moment, and he in his shock has no strength in his arms to hold her away from his body.

"Who's the beast?" Marianne growls, crowding him, looming forward, her face stuck through a frame made by the crossing of their blades.  If she could know that she in this moment is terrifying and beautiful in her power--her eyes glittering shards of amber ice, cold and merciless and screaming for Roland's blood--she would take vicious pleasure in how even the paint on her lips adds to her ferocity in this moment.  She does not know how she looks; her mind is a world away from mirrors and filled with other thoughts.  She knows that she is just as willing to rip his jugular out with her teeth if it comes to that--her lips pulled back as if ready to let her teeth do just that--as she is to stab her sword, clean and true, through the green plate over Roland's breast and skewer his heart.  Her mouth and arms itch with action, indecision, fierce and horrible desires.

Roland, in the face of this, affects a scoff and an eyeroll as if to pat her head and call her a pet name, something along the lines of "Now, Buttercup..." (an old favorite of his) and even though she knows he's thrown off and terrified her arms tense immediately, ready to follow her thoughts and drive her blade into Roland's neck, unmask him and show everyone his cowardice, as he dies in the dirt, no doubt pleading for his life.

An arm is suddenly held in front of her, pushing her behind someone, releasing her from horrible dark places--

Bog.  Hovering just ahead of her, staff up and ready to deflect any  attack that may come.

"Stay out of it," he snarls over his shoulder.  He's not even looking at her; the threat in his voice paired with a grimace of teeth and his raised staff are directed at Roland, shutting her down, keeping her out of her rightful fight, as if she's some delicate creature who needs to be protected from everything in the whole world.  She's not having it, her blood boiling in an entirely different way as she raises her hand and tugs against Bog's upper arm.

"Hey!" she snaps, pressing down and back to make him pay attention.  His carapace is warm and rough under her hot, action-buzzed fingers.  "I can take care of myself."  He looks at her and she prepares to argue, but his eyes are clear and hold none of the betrayal that she had seen there so recently, all suspicions gone as well, and his eyes seem to speak aloud to her, she reads them so clearly.   _He doesn't doubt her abilities,_ they say, _No, never, but Roland is dangerous in more ways than one and I need to protect, I have never needed to protect the way I need to protect_ you,  _please do not do this because he could_ hurt you  _and it would be the end of the world..._

And Marianne doesn't know how to  _respond_ to that but it doesn't matter right now because Roland is speaking again, reaching out even as he simpers, "Two against one?"  A scream from Dawn reaches her ears and her head snaps forward before her mind can even hope to process what she's seeing.  Dawn is held fast in Roland's ungentle arm, his naked blade up and sharp and nearly touching her delicate throat.  "Not fair."

"Roland!"  The word rips out of her chest and it's a plea as well as a threat.  She doesn't want to believe it, can't believe that he would stoop so low as to do this on top of everything else, hurt Dawn, but she  _can_ at the same time, all to easily, and even as her voice falters she wishes it were stronger.  "What are you-"  Her thoughts are tripping over one another now, clogging her throat, and all that can get out of her mouth now is the scream of anger she lets loose as she races toward him again.  She is only just aware that Bog is buzzing forward too, staff raised with threatening purpose, and it crosses with her blade with a natural hiss as they lunge forward as one, pushing Roland's sword up to rest in front of his neck just before he cries out in surprise.

"Let.  Her.   **Go**!" Bog commands from beside her, voicing their desire as one.  Marianne feels a fierce rush of gratitude and  _joy_ in the protective tone of Bog's voice, the way he pushes forward with single-minded purpose; Marianne wonders briefly when he began to care about Dawn the way she does, almost as if he loves her, too.  Surely, there is nothing he can gain from saving her but her safety.

"Now you're forcing me to...change my plan," Roland huffs out, tone regretful.  Marianne isn't buying  _shit_ from him but all the same, she risks a quick glance toward Bog, gratified to see his gaze flicker to hers at the same time, disbelief not so much written as painted over his face.  His eyes voice doubts and she reads them clearly and easily.  This brief solidarity is all that she needs, and she returns her gaze to Roland as Bog does, eyes narrowed and scowling anew.

"So...sadly...now's the time for me...to..." Roland sucks in a deep breath and Marianne flinches, expecting skies-know-what, and she is not disappointed when he bellows, "GOOOO!"  The noise roars out of him, and Marianne and Bog both flinch back, distracted immediately from countering him when a stone-shuddering crash echoes from below the floor.

Another.  Another.   _Another..._

The palace is suddenly shaking, fracturing around them, and Marianne's jaw drops as she follows one crack with her eyes as it races skyward, the ceiling creaking ominously.  Around her is a cacophony of sounds: "What is happening?!" Dawn cries, a small gasp of distress from Bog following as the ceiling starts to give, crushing his throne, the stairway to the dungeons, the dias...

Another cry from Dawn as she is shoved into the Bog King's chest.  For one moment, Marianne forgets all else, eyes snapping to follow Dawn and such utter relief crashing through her when she sees Bog's arms wrap around Dawn in a protective catch.

Then, something hard and metal and green drives into her and as the wind in her lungs commits a hasty evacuation, Marianne's arms to slack enough for her hand to suddenly be empty, even as she struggles against the grip around her.  There is a rushing, a victorious crow in her ear and Dawn screaming her name, a muffled roar as she is ripped away from her sister and the King, being carried toward the predawn sky in the arms of someone whom she had sworn would never touch her again.


End file.
